Free Rivals for the Crown by Kathleen Givens

importance outside this room, aye? I'm sorry, lads, but things are unsettled, and everyone talks. Edward of England's claim—that's the most interesting one of them all, isn't it? Edward's not asking for the throne outright. He's saying he already is Scotland's sovereign overlord. It's an old argument, but it's a sham."
    "I dinna understand that one at all," Kieran said.
    "Aye, well," Liam answered, "ye ken that our King Alexander married King Edward's sister?"
    "Aye."
    "After that, Alexander went to England and paid homage to Edward. Alexander made it clear, then and later, both in his words and writings, that the homage he paid was only for his English lands, that he recognized Edward as overlord of those properties, but not of Scotland. He affirmed that he was still Scotland's king and that Scotland was its own sovereign land. Of course, if the wee queen had lived it would have been a moot point, wouldn't it? Edward's son would have been married to the queen of Scotland, and when their children inherited, the thrones would have been united. But the Maid has died and that plan is gone."
    "What d'ye think Edward will do?" Kieran asked.
    "The leopard of the south? D'ye think Edward will pass up a chance to choose who will rule us? Not likely. Food will be here soon. Get those wet clothes off and get yerself warm. Yer aunt Nell is not here, or she would have been fussing over ye already."
    "Nell's not here?" Rory asked, pulling off his boots. Fine leather and well made, but his feet were still glad to feel the warm woollen rug underfoot. "Where is she?"
    The light from the fire illuminated Liam's copper hair and his face, letting Rory see the shadows in Liam's eyes. His uncle was worried.
    "I sent her and our lasses down to Ayrshire when the word came that the Maid had died. I'm weary of my wife being in danger because the throne of Scotland is unsettled again."
    He strode across, grabbing a bottle of wine and pouring three cups, then handing two to Rory and Kieran. "The Comyns were at her already, wanting her to stay, pulling at her for their own ambitions, and the Balliols were sending her messages. I wanted her out of the fray, at least until we ken who will be on the throne. Or whether there will be war over this. Ye'11 notice most of the women are gone from Stirling."
    Rory and Kieran exchanged a glance while Liam crossed the room again, throwing up the lid of a chest that lay before the window, and pulling two woollen shirts from its depths.
    "D'ye think it'll come to war?" Rory asked, pulling his wet tunic over his head and tossing it on the floor.
    "Look at the two of ye, half hoping it will," Liam said. "Dinna hope it, not even for a moment. I've seen war and ye dinna want to be part of it. Here," he said, handing the shirts to them. "We have a good fire, and these will keep ye warm while yer own clothes are drying. Now tell me why ye're here and why the hell is everyone talking about Rory MacGannon killing a man over a lass."
    "I told ye he'd have heard," Kieran said. "And it's only two days ago."
    "My da asked us to come see ye and Nell and hear what was being said," Rory told his uncle. "And to be sure ye'd heard about the Maid, although none of us could think that ye hadn't. After this we're to go to Edinburgh and listen to what's talked about there."
    "And then down to Berwick," Kieran said.
    "Where ye'll hear what's being said there as well," Liam said, answering the knock at the door. He returned with a tray of food and put it on a table. "Come and eat, lads, and tell me why there's a blood feud with ye at the center. What happened?"
    "We were in Onich, on the bank of Loch Linnhe," Rory said.
    "Aye, I ken it. And?"
    "And a man was trying to rape a lass."
    "And?"
    "And I stopped him. And we fought. And I killed him."
    "I heard ye cut him into pieces."
    "No."
    "His head was almost off, but not quite," Kieran said. "There were four of them. Rory killed the one and we wounded another and the others ran."
    "The lass